Because I Knew You
by gypsystears
Summary: Moira sells secrets for pay, and believes that she doesn’t need anybody or anything... Until one night she is rescued by Michelangelo from a likely termination. As the two become friends, Moira and Mikey both come to understand the value of family.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

Prologue:

The late afternoon light beamed through the thin slots of the window blinds, casting a shadowy army of horizontal lines across the bedroom floor and furniture. The shadow lines changed in size and shape and became a series of erratic zigzags as they crept across the bedspread and over the two figures lying underneath it. Moira inhaled slowly and exhaled with a delicate, satisfied sigh as she snuggled against the tanned and toned chest of the man lying next to her. Sure, he was almost seven years her senior, but there were a lot of okay qualities in him that could lead to him being a great human being if it weren't for the fact that he was a career criminal. Part of Moira felt that it was a shame that this would be her last romp with him; Mr. Wren Fiore had certainly lived up to his rep as a charmer and had never once been a let down. Occasionally Moira felt like she needed to do extra exercise just to keep up with him. Too bad.

Wren twisted his torso gently and placed a small peck on Moira's forehead. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me? Los Angeles is fantastic in late summer, and I really do think I could get you some studio time somewhere…" He nuzzled against Moira's cheek before rising from the bed to rediscover his pants and belt. Boy would she miss that very fine ass of his.

"Oh, I'm positive," Moira said as she stretched her back and sank into the pillows. "You know I can't leave until my lease is up. Besides, I haven't been at my job long enough to have earned any vacation time. Just send me a postcard." Moira puckered her broad lips to blow Wren a kiss as he leaned over to scribble on the hotel notepad.

"Well, here's my flight number and the number for where I'll be staying while I'm there. And this is just in case you decide to take my advice and move out of the deathtrap you're living in." Moira let her eyes wander down to the blank check on the nightstand, and for a moment felt very privileged that Wren Fiore, whom had only been seeing her for eight weeks, would entrust her with a blank check from his personal bank account. Of course, he wasn't aware that she already knew that bank account number and the pin, as well as the numbers for his other accounts in Florida and Switzerland. Very flattering nonetheless. He sat back on the bed for one more kiss as he straightened his tie.

"See you around sweetheart." Jacket and suitcase in hand, Wren Fiore walked out of the hotel room and out of Moira's life.

"Aloha." Moira threw on her camisole and opened the curtain just slightly, waiting to watch him drive off toward LaGuardia. She gave him one last wave as the red rental Ferrari sped off. As soon as the car was out of sight, Moira sat back on the edge of the bed and fumbled through her purse for her phone. Strands of hot pink and golden blonde hair were pushed behind her ear as she listened to the receiver ring. "Hello, Officer Kendall? Fiore's just left the hotel for the airport… You can intercept him at gate 37. I'll email you the rest of his account numbers in a few minutes. It should be really easy to see where he's been embezzling from; the guy's pretty sloppy. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Yeah, just don't bring my name up, okay? No, you hired me because I'm good at what I do, and if you let your minions blow my cover your job's at stake too… Yeah, yeah… Just transfer my payment into my account when you get a chance. Out."

She shut the phone in her palm and sighed, pulling her long blonde hair with lime, hot pink and blue streaks into a ponytail. Eight weeks was a long time to have gone with no pay, but at least this was a big fish and several grand. Moira dressed and gathered her things, for a few minutes feeling kind of bad for setting the guy up like that, especially after he'd offered to help with anything she wanted. Until her phone beeped a text message that her payment had gone through and she could access it by supper, and that she could keep the blank check for an additional ten grand, at which time any guilty feelings were quickly silenced.

_Too bad for him…_

Oroku Saki closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the aroma of the oolong tea wafting upward, almost as though the vapors sought to unravel his tightly wound nerves. It wasn't easy being highly respected and feared as both gold-star citizen and crime boss. His tension leaving, he casually opened and began to thumb through the paper. Celebrities in the headlines and front page never interested him, but the smaller, more local stories were often more relevant to his business dealings. News stories about what the mayor, local government agencies and police were up to affected him and how he could get things done.

His eyes narrowed darkly. "NYPD bust embezzling playboy," Saki said as he read over the headline. He took another sip of tea. "28-year-old Wren Fiore was arrested yesterday at LaGuardia airport after weeks of investigating. Over the past six years Fiore has been embezzling funds from different multinational corporations, totaling to over 2.8 million dollars divided between CD's and private accounts. Anonymous sources aiding the police still are trying to link the stolen funds and his previous charges of bribery, smuggling and conspiracy as well as to several large gangs and possibly the Japanese mafia…" Saki's eyes widened as the newspaper crumpled between his fingers.

This was the fourth time in the last year that one of his public faces had been publicly arrested. The police still hadn't successfully traced the money or goods to Saki's good name, but with the arrest of Fiore they were getting closer. New York's finest were good enough in most things, but each associate of Saki's that had been caught was due to an anonymous source helping the police. They would never name who their mole was because then their life would be in inevitable danger and then they'd have to solve their own damn mysteries. But even the most careful snitch still had a name, even if it was only a handle. That's all he needed, and no matter how clever the police spy was, Oroku Saki knew that his own spies were even more so.

A faint growl could be heard from the back of Oroku Saki's throat as he made his way down from his loft home to the lower levels of the building. He needed to put in a work order. He stopped in a dimly lit, open room and was promptly greeted by a silent, kneeling ninja. "I need you to do a little reconnaissance for me," Oroku said coldly. "The police have an informant who has helped arrest four public figures who work for me. They're getting too close to exposing me. I need a name. Go." The ninja bowed and departed as silently as he had entered. He would pass the information on to lower ranking Foot Soldiers, and they would disperse themselves around the city to find information for their master.

It was sundown of the next day before that ninja presented himself before Oroku Saki again. He bowed deeply. "Master," he said in a voice just above a whisper. "We have found a name for this informant. We are still looking for more information, but the informant that uncovered your four operatives is the same in each case. They are known as 'The Mouth.'"

"Good," purred Saki. "Well done. Find out more about 'The Mouth.' See if you can provide me with a name and address to go by, but don't do anything until I say so." The ninja bowed and left to continue in his work. _'The Mouth' so far is a clever_ _person_, Saki thought. _I won't dispatch of them until I know more about them and just how much they know about me… _


	2. Rescued Hearts

_Author's note: I'd like to make it known now, before you get (hopefully) into this story, that it is rather mis-categorized. 'Because I Knew You' is headed under drama and romance, but that's not quite accurate – just the closest thing. This is a love story, yes, but not in the romantic sense at all; love comes in every flavor, and romance just happens to be the most common flavor of Jelly Belly in the fanfic world, second only possibly to odd slash fics. My story is about love in one of its less complicated forms… the love of real friends, the love of family, and how sometimes the two become the same thing. _

Chapter 1: Rescued Hearts

Across the living room of the Lair, Raphael's door shut with a fierce slam, followed immediately by an equally hard slam coming from Michelangelo's door. For a long moment there was a pregnant silence as Leonardo, Donatello and Master Splinter all looked uneasily at the two doors and at each other. Those two were at it… again. Neither of them was hurt beyond any of their normal scuffle-scratches, and the only real victim was an old lamp. Donnie sighed as he went for the broom and dustpan, concluding that his next romp through the junk yard he ought to try and bring back a lamp made of something not so breakable.

The silence was broken as the stereo in Raph's room began to blast, the mellow yet seething drum-line of Godsmack's _Voodoo_ beginning to seep through the walls and door. Everyone shifted their glance to the opposite door, wondering what loud and obnoxious therapy Mikey would play. A few eyebrows raised as his door opened again to reveal a snugly-dressed Mikey. Shoes, pants, hat, coat, gloves, scarf. Leonardo raised an eyebrow at him. "Costume party?" He gave a light half-smile at his younger sibling, hoping that Michelangelo's joking nature would resurface.

"Oh ha ha," Mikey said dryly. "I'm going above ground for a little while to clear my head and get some air. Weather dude said it was snowing right now, so I'll be hack in a little while." He didn't really look at anyone as he made his way out of the Lair to head up.

"Be safe," Leo called after him quietly with a wave. Donnie shifted in his seat.

"You sure we should let him go off while he's still ticked," Donnie asked as he turned his attention back to the TV. "Usually it's Raph that needs some air."

"Which is why he'll probably be fine," Leo replied. "He's less likely to go find trouble just so he can vent." He turned the volume up on the TV so it wasn't drowned out by Raph's wrathful death-metal

Michelangelo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the chilling bite of the cold November air freezing and refreshing, instantly lifting his spirit as the warm sewer steam started to chill against any exposed skin. It was a dark, quiet night in Manhattan, and it looked just like his little fiber optic picture Donnie had given him some Christmases ago. The glow of the lights from Broadway, Fifth Avenue and Time Square lit up the nearby sky, the skyscrapers twinkled with their office lights bouncing off of other office buildings; light and shadows playing with shapes and colors that lost their vibrancy in the night were serene and calming.

"Stupid Raph," he muttered as he kicked at a spattering of snow on the ground. As much as the city at night lifted his spirits, he was still in a foul mood, and headed to the only other place that he knew usually cheered him. "Why does he have to be so pig-headed and stubborn? Why can't Raph just see things my way for a change?" Mikey's sullen muttering quieted as he made his way through the city, taking care to follow safe routes to Central Park that usually ensured he wouldn't be spotted or bothered.

His disguise was good enough to fool most people at a distance, and even up close if they didn't look too hard, but nights like this really made him wish he looked more human so he could stay above ground. The thin layer of snow crunched quietly beneath his shoes as he neared his favorite park, minding to stay well away from the zoo and more popular areas. He kept himself to the jogging path, the dim yellow lights of the lamps casting warm glows onto the snow as it fell. Mikey smiled and looked around him as he felt his tension leave, cleansed away by the calm of the oncoming winter.

_This is more like it_, he thought warmly. _I can definitely see why Leo likes his quiet meditation music and stuff; this is really nice._ There wasn't enough snow on the ground to make a snowman out of yet, and there weren't any kids around this late at night to throw snowballs at, so a walk, Mikey decided, would have to suffice. The quiet tranquility of his walk were broken as he wandered off the trail and into the trees to stay out of sight. Up ahead and coming closer he heard shouting, mostly from a woman, it sounded like. He moved silently a little closer to where it was coming from and heard the addition of men's voices. Mikey's eyes narrowed as the source of the shouting came into view.

"Buzz OFF you Purple Dragon lackeys!" The woman didn't even bother looking behind her as she shouted at them. She tried to run just a little bit faster and headed into the trees, weaving in and out of them, hoping to slow her pursuers down some. She screamed a little and ducked, nearly loosing her footing as the end of a long spinning chain made contact with a tree next to her. She ran back out onto the path, jumping over a bench and throwing down a trashcan as she moved. Her distractions unfortunately weren't as distracting as she'd hoped they'd be.

Michelangelo moved in closer, silently running parallel to the group, waiting for his moment to strike. He knew he'd probably be scolded for jumping in the middle of this, but that lady was outnumbered and about to be trounced if he didn't help her now. The two thugs were Purple Dragons all right, and if nothing else, they were persistent. _What a night to leave my Turtle Titan costume at home_, Mikey thought, picking up a rock. The woman gave another scream as she came to the ground and kicked the chain that was wrapped around her ankle off as it already started to swell. She turned over onto her back and began trying and failing to stand up again.

The two thugs stood over her for a long moment, grinning wickedly. One stood to her left, tall and thin, sporting spiked blonde hair and sunglasses. His partner stood to her right, shorter with thick muscles, and grunted as he re-coiled his chain. "Ain't your motha evea told ya that snoopin' was rude?" The thin one popped out a switchblade as he spoke. "Spyin' only gets good girls into trouble…" There was a faint crashing noise and tinkling of shattering glass as it hit the ground. The three of them looked around for whoever had put out the lamp.

Mikey presented himself across the path. "And hasn't your mother ever told you that it's not nice to hit ladies?" _Oh good,_ the woman thought frantically. _A distraction_. While the attention of her assailants was focused on her would-be rescuer, she propped herself onto her elbows and began scooting away, careful to grab her messenger bag. The larger of the two was quickly taken to the ground and with fast moves that she couldn't quite make out he was almost effortlessly thrown to the side. As he rose again for another round, the woman decided to scoot away faster, now unsure if her rescuer was any safer than the Purple Dragons; he wasn't tall, but he certainly seemed strong.

She gave a sharp yelp as the tall one reached over and grabbed at her swelling ankle, dragging her back to him. "Oh no ya don't, bitch! It only takes one of us to kill ya!" Her brown eyes lifted into the air, following his arm to where it tapered into the gleaming blade. She shut her eyes tightly and put her arms over her face. _This is it_, she thought. _I'm about to be stabbed to death_. The thug had long since released her ankle after pulling her back, but there was a very long moment where nothing happened. She wasn't sure if he was just being a dramatic prick, but the seconds felt like minutes as no blade touched her skin.

A gloved hand tapped her arm lightly and then remained extended, waiting patiently. "It's okay," Mikey said cheerfully. "They're gone." She opened one eye, then both, lowering her arms and looked around. What he said was true; they were gone and could be seen running off in the distance. She turned her attention back to her rescuer and smiled as she gathered the spilled cell phone and notebooks back into her bag. She sighed in relief, pulling her blonde, pink and blue strands or hair off of her face so she could survey the damage. Her Capri's were torn a little around the knees where she fell, but as she brushed the dirt, snow and dead leaves off from herself she concluded that there was no real damage. She checked her phone carefully to make sure that it hadn't been damaged in falling and then her left ankle. Michelangelo leaned a little closer, careful to keep his face out of the light as he tried to get a better look at her leg; while not quite as big as a baseball, her ankle was becoming noticeably puffier as the blues and purples melded together in a large bruise. "I don't have a car, but you want me to walk you to, like, a hospital or someplace?"

She smiled up at him, rubbing on the bone gently. "No," she replied. "I don't think that'll be necessary. It's not broken, just sprained; if I keep off of it for a day or two it'll be just fine." Taking the offered hand, she pulled herself into a standing position and leaned slightly against Mikey. "Thank you for the rescue. If you hadn't stepped in, I'd have been toast. Not many people are willing to fight of Purple Dragons for a stranger."

The thanks made it worth it in the end, Mikey felt. He brought up a hand as though to scratch his nose so he could pull his scarf a little higher so that even less of his face would show. "No problem – I can't stand them, either." She pushed off of his shoulder and started to walk away when her ankle wobbled uneasily beneath her. Mikey trotted a few quick steps to keep her from falling. "How about I help you walk home, then? You might hurt your ankle more walking home alone, and if I go with you the Purple Dragons are less likely to come back after you." She shifted uneasily for a moment before surrendering to the common sense and lifted her arm to point the direction in which she lived.

"My knight in shining corduroy," she giggled. "Thanks again, um…"

"Michelangelo. Mikey, for short."

"Thanks, Mikey. I'm Moira."

The two made their way slowly out of Central Park, through the alleys that streamed through downtown, back to a familiar neighborhood of mostly boarded-up warehouses. After a few blocks the number of lit streetlamps lessened as the neighborhood felt shiftier. It wasn't too far from the warehouse above the Lair, come to think of it. "Moira," Mikey asked as they continued on. "Are you sure you live around here? I know this neighborhood, and there aren't too many houses; mostly just old warehouses and factories." Moira nodded.

"And that's why I live around here. It's quieter, and fewer people bother you. Hoodlums and Jehovah's Witnesses don't really bother these neighborhoods because they assume nobody lives here." Her answer made enough sense, but Mikey wasn't sure he bought that entirely, but she didn't look like she was homeless. She stopped walking and turned slightly as he was mulling the possibilities over. "We're here." He looked up at the warehouse. It was huge and dimly lit with several windows broken and boarded up; the sides and alleyway had a chain-link fence wrapping almost entirely around the building, Mikey raised an eyebrow doubtfully, wondering if she really was homeless and was just trying to convince him of otherwise. Moira dipped her hand down into a bucket beneath the mail slot in the door, scooping up the letters only to plop them onto a side table. "Such as it is," she said pleasantly, "this is home."

The inside of the warehouse was just as big as it looked outside, and a certain airiness and emptiness tried to blur with the aesthetics of a normal, cozy home. Wallpapered sheetrock walls divvied up the open space into a vast array of rooms and hallways, many dark and empty or filled with old junk left over from previous owners. Deathtrap. Fire hazard. Hobo hotel. None of Moira's previous boyfriends ever approved of where she lived or acknowledged that it was her home. She pointed up through the hallway. "My room's this way, kitchen's straight back if you want anything. Help yourself to the fridge and pantry." Moira limped off a few hops into a nearby bathroom to get some Ace wrap and then hobble over to her bedroom; her body's reserves of adrenaline were spent and she was now exhausted.

Mikey tried to refrain from turning on any lights that he didn't have to as he wandered up through the hall and into the kitchen; she seemed nice enough, but most humans weren't good at coping with five-foot-tall talking turtles. The kitchen was warm and dark, and smelled vaguely of pineapple cake. "You sure you don't mind if I snitch a sandwich," he called out. "I don't wanna take your good snacks." Moira hobbled back out of the bedroom and leaned against the hallway wall.

"Nah, it's fine, and it's the least I can do." Mikey's eyes lit up happily, a peanut butter and banana sandwich quickly coming together before him. Mid-munch there came a loud _thunk_ at the back door, followed by the sound of claws scratching at the metal. Moira tried to hobble into the kitchen to warn him, but he had already started opening the door. Mikey gave a startled yelp as he was knocked onto his rear by a pair of large golden-red paws that were attached to a fairly large and barking pit-bull with very large teeth. The barks were high-pitched, almost squeaking; his ears weren't folded back but his tail wasn't wagging. The dog was making a point to the stranger but wasn't going to attack. Moira limped to the kitchen doorway and looked sternly at the pit-bull. "Grunt! Iho! Hala'i!" Instantly the dog obeyed and took his paws off of Michelangelo, wagging his stubby tail and giving his face several good sniffs before finally sitting contently. Master had told him to be calm, and the stranger had Master's scent on him and he smelled friendly enough, but the dog was puzzled; the stranger stood up and walked like Master but smelled like prey.

"Sorry about that," Moira said. "I forgot I'd left him outside. He won't hurt you, he just doesn't like strangers." The dog trotted up and sat next to her, still looking at Mikey, panting happily. Given the pitch of the squeaky barks, Mikey wondered what Grunt was before he was a dog. She looked down at Grunt and pointed at Mikey. "Grunt, you be nice to Mikey; if he didn't save me nobody would be here to feed you." The dog looked at her and licked his lips, waiting for a command as she pointed at Mikey again. "Grunt, keia Michelangelo; Michelangelo hoa aloha. Hele moe iho." Grunt cocked his head to the side, gave Mikey's face a few more sniffs and a solid lick for good measure before turning around and heading down to the living room to go to bed. Mikey stood up, pleased but confused.

"What was that all about," Mikey asked as he finished his sandwich. "What were you telling him?"

"I trained Grunt in Hawaiian commands so only I could tell him what to do. I told him you were a friend and to go lay down… which sounds really good right about now. But it means that if you drop by again he'll know you're okay." Mikey smiled warmly, still careful that as little of his face as possible was showing.

"Heh, no worries," Mikey said warmly. So far coming above ground to vent was the best thing he'd done all night. He waved once more at Grunt as he made his way back to the darkened entrance of the front door, and looked over his shoulder to wave goodbye. "Have a good night, Moira. It was great to meet you."

Moira smiled tiredly as she shut the door. . "It was good to meet you, too. Aloha ahiahi, Michelangelo." He walked down to the dark corner of her block, quietly moved the manhole cover and vanished into the warm darkness of the sewers to head home. Any anger he felt earlier that night was completely gone from his body, and he felt quite good about saving that girl. He didn't think she'd gotten a good look at her face, and she really seemed like a nice person. He wasn't quite sure why the Purple Dragons were after her or razzing her about spying on them, but more than likely she had just passed by them and was spotted. And even though Mikey was fairly certain nobody had followed them, he decided he would check on her tomorrow or the day after, just to make sure that she was okay and that nobody had.

It was late by the time he walked through the front door of the Lair; very late. All lights and music were out – everyone was in bed. _Great_, Mikey thought. _Nobody will know when I came in…_ He tiptoed closer and closer, his bedroom drawing nearer and nearer. _I'm almost home free!_ Mikey tied not to yelp as the rounded end of a walking stick bopped him in the back of his head. _Aw shell… Busted. _Mikey turned and knelt before his glaring, cross-armed father.

"Michelangelo, do you have any idea what time it is?" Splinter's voice was quiet yet firm. He tapped his foot, waiting for an answer. Mikey bit back his initial urge for a smart-ass remark; he'd done something generally good tonight, so there was no sense in saying something that he might get grounded for. He gave a small, apologetic bow.

"Very late, Sensei. I'm sorry." Mikey glanced up at Splinter, his eyebrow still raised as he waited for an explanation. "I'd have been home sooner, but something happened while I was out walking in the park. This girl was being chased down by two gang members; they'd have killed her if I hadn't stepped in to help her. But don't worry, I don't think any of them got a good look at me."

Master Splinter sighed lightly, resigning his frustrations as he placed a lightly-furred hand on his youngest son's cheek, rubbing lightly. Michelangelo had done the right thing by saving her, but he couldn't help but feel a slight uneasiness at the thought of even more humans knowing about them. Even though only April and Casey really knew where they lived, the growing number of humans who knew about them and knew them personally could easily become very uncomfortable, especially since they all knew that not all humans could be trusted. His son had done the right thing, though, and it would be wrong to reprimand him for doing what was right. Mikey rose as Splinter turned to go back to bed. "If you don't mind, Sensei, I think I'll check back on her in a while. Like I said, I don't think anyone got a good look at me, but I want to make sure that nobody followed us back to her place. They seemed pretty intent on hurting her, and I'd feel horrible if walking her home led them straight to her."

Splinter sighed again. "Just please be careful," he said quietly to his son as he walked back to his bedroom. "Good night, my son." Mikey continued to his bedroom and shut the door, wondering what was gnawing on his father to make him seem so concerned; it wasn't like Moira was the only human they knew. Sure, Karai and a few other humans gave them a hard time and a few others would love to dissect them all, but that was something they typically could deal with. _He's probably just enacting his rights to worry as a dad_, he thought as he shook off the mild confusion and went to sleep.

The Lair was quiet once more, the warm darkness blanketing the floors and dark corners, bringing a soft easiness to the sewers below the troubled city. Splinter eased himself back into bed, trying to clear his mind of his troubles. The news on television and in the papers and tabloids raced with headlines; police trying to crack down on corrupt officials; corrupt officials trying to evade the police; large and prominent gangs growing in size and fighting even more as they fought for territories and swarming innocent bystanders; attention-starved people claiming sightings of strange monsters in dark places. The tabloids were trash, it was true, but lately stories about all of the strange goings-on, like Bishop's alien-invasion hoax, and the twisted rendition of his four sons portrayed to the public as the mutated, alien monsters. Even though that issue had long since been resolved, the people of New York City didn't often forget such things and were periodically reminded through the mindless tabloid papers that should creatures like them or similar to them be seen, they should be feared, reported and turned in, occasionally for a reward. And fear could almost always be quelled by greed…


End file.
